Avengers Infinity War: Aftershock
by The-Man-in-Blue
Summary: The end of Avengers: Infinity War, from inside the minds of the heroes involved. Just a little side project I cooked up on a long drive with no Wi-Fi. On the plus side, it helped me deal with my own depression/self-worth issues, so there's that. Hope y'all enjoy!


**WAKANDA**

* * *

Steve Rogers stumbled out from the Wakandan bush. His body hurt, ached with the fatigue of battle. Thanos' punch to the head hadn't helped much; his vision was still slightly blurry. But he'd clearly seen Thanos open some kind of blueish portal and disappear inside it. "Where'd he go?" he asked Thor, who stood staring at his axe on the ground, unmoving. "Thor? Where'd he go?"

Thor didn't respond.

"Steve?" came a voice. Steve turned to see Bucky walking towards him, staring at his metal arm. Steve blinked, trying to focus on his childhood friend. His eyes were playing tricks on him; it looked as though Bucky's vibranium arm was disintegrating into flakes being blown by the wind.

Bucky turned to look at Steve, and Steve's vision cleared instantly. He recognized that look on Bucky's face. It was the same look he'd seen in Bucky's eyes back in 1945, as he clung desperately to the rail of the Hydra train speeding through the snowy German mountainside. It was the face of a man who wasn't ready to die. The face of a man panicking as he called on all his strength to cling to that broken train rail.

And then Bucky's legs turned to a brownish-black ash and he fell face-first towards the ground, disintegrating on impact. His assault rifle hit the dirt amid a pile of ashes.

Steve went hollow as he walked over towards where Bucky had been. He didn't know what to feel. He didn't know what had happened. He dropped to his knees, staring at Thor for an explanation for what had just happened.

Thor couldn't even look at Rogers. This was his fault. Thanos had done it. He'd won. All because Thor hadn't been able to do what he'd promised. He'd promised to kill Thanos. For Heimdall. For Loki. For all the other Asgardians that had perished. He was supposed to be the King of Asgard. What kind of king couldn't protect his people? What would Odin say?

_You should have gone for the head. _He would never forget those words as long as he lived. He would never forget Thanos's face, the face of the victorious. He would be the only one who knew how close Thor had come to stopping him. So _close. _And he'd sneered with triumph as he'd triggered the Snap and wiped out half of all life in the universe. Taunting Thor for how close he'd come.

It was like Ragnarok. Some things in this universe were already decided and couldn't be stopped. It had been futile to try. Futile to hold on to the hope that they could beat this scourge. It just made the failure sting more. Those words and that face would haunt Thor for the rest of his life.

Steve placed a hand on the pile of ash that had once been James Buchanan Barnes, memories rushing through his head. He remembered the first time they'd met. Bullies had been picking on Steve yet again, back before the war when he was just another scrawny Brooklyn kid. Barnes had walked in on them trying to steal his money, a weekly occurrence for Steve at the time. Barnes had stuck up for him then. There had been no reason to. He could have just kept walking like everyone else had done. But he didn't. He'd defended Rogers back then, and he'd defended Rogers all through their childhood from bullies.

He remembered their trips to Coney Island. He remembered their workouts at Goldie's Boxing Gym, training to apply for the army. They were going to go fight for their country together. Just like they did everything together. Except Barnes had made the cut and Steve hadn't.

He remembered Barnes comforting him after his mother had died of tuberculosis. He remembered Barnes' famous words, that had stuck with Steve for his entire life. _I'm with you till the end of the line. _He'd known Barnes had meant it. That's why he'd told Barnes the same. The two of them would always be there for each other, through thick and thin.

But he hadn't been able to protect Barnes all those years ago. And he couldn't protect him now. Steve ran his fingers through the ash on the ground as the horrifying truth set in. Barnes' name had just been added to the list of names that ran through Steve's head when he tried to sleep at night. The list of names of all the people Captain America couldn't save.

* * *

Okoye winced as she rolled onto her back. The last thing she remembered, Thanos had sent her flying with a blast of magic from his glove. She'd gotten the wind knocked out of her when she landed. What had happened? Had they stopped Thanos?

Suddenly she saw T'Challa scampering towards her. She felt so undignified, so feeble lying helplessly on the ground in front of her king. But T'Challa had never been one for formality. He had a good heart. He cared about people deeply. And she could tell he cared about her. Not in a romantic way, but in a respectful way, as one cared for a friend.

T'Challa extended his hand as he approached her. "Up, General!" he commanded. "Up! This is no place to die."

Ever one to obey the king's orders, Okoye grabbed T'Challa's forearm, grateful for the aid in getting up. She began to pull herself up when suddenly she felt him go slack and she fell back against the ground. Confused, she looked up to see a floating mass of black ash where T'Challa had been not moments earlier. Her eyes widened in shock. "Oh God," she whispered as the panic began to set in and she scampered to her feet.

* * *

"I am Grooooot . . ." Groot moaned feebly.

Rocket heard what Groot had said: _Dad. _He looked up quickly to see Groot lying against a tree trunk, disintegrating into ash. "No," he said, stumbling towards Groot. He couldn't lose Groot again. Not again. Not his best friend. "No, no!"

He made a feeble grab for Groot, and his hand went right through the tree-like creature's chest which turned to ash. He looked up into Groot's eyes. Groot stared back, with the eyes of a terrified animal facing death. Rocket couldn't do anything to stop Groot from leaving. Groot, his partner in crime as far back as he could remember. What had Groot done to deserve this? He'd never hurt an innocent thing in his life. He was the most pure and innocent creature in the entire galaxy. He didn't deserve to die. Not here, not like this.

Despite his hard exterior and his persona that he worked tirelessly to keep up, Rocket did have a heart somewhere in the depths of his furry, genetically mutated body. He had a huge heart for the people he cared about. And he cared about the Guardians. His family. They'd taken him in when he was a failed bounty hunter and given him something to belong to. Given him and Groot and purpose. But now they were halfway across the galaxy, and without Groot he would be all alone. That was his one fear. Being alone.

Because he'd been alone when they'd come for him. He'd been alone when the scientists of Halfworld had taken him and cut him up, sliced him into little bits and put him back together in a macabre copy-paste format with some implants thrown in for good measure. He'd sworn to himself he'd never be alone again after that. Bad things happened when he was alone. Groot had been there for him. It had been him and Groot for as long as he could remember. But now here he was, on a third-rate mudball planet watching the only person who looked up to him, the only person who respected him, dying in front of him. And he could do absolutely nothing to stop it.

"Groot . . ." Rocket said, searching for the words to say. Something. Anything to tell Groot how he felt. But Groot's face vanished in a burst of dust, and Rocket was left clutching the ashes as they scattered on the wind. "No . . ."

* * *

Wanda Maximoff knelt near the body of her lover. He was cold now, a lifeless gray color from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. She stared down at him, cradling his head in her hands. She'd been selfish. She knew that now. One life for half of the lives in the universe?

But it had been so hard for her to do it. To kill the only man she'd ever loved besides her brother. The only man who ever cared about her besides her brother. That was what Vision had been. A man. Not a machine but a man, who felt pain as she did, who loved as she had, who cried as she had. A _man_. Far more than any machine could be.

When Pietro had died, she'd been torn in half. Broken. Shattered. Vision had filled that void. They'd disappeared after the Accords, trying to start a life over. Just the two of them, together. But the universe had bigger plans for her love, plans that she was forced to play a role in as well. Destroy the very device that had given her lover life, and in the process destroy him as well. He had been willing and able to sacrifice himself. She hadn't wanted him to. Foolish of her.

Killing him was the hardest thing she had ever done. And she'd done it, but it had all been for naught. Thanos had still won. If only she'd done it sooner . . . this whole thing was _her _fault.

She felt herself beginning to fade away and almost smiled. It was what she deserved. Death was too good for her. For someone too weak to take one life to save trillions. She looked up to the sky as she was turned into ash by the Snap. Her final thought was a consoling one as she left this life. Perhaps she would be able to find Vision, in whatever awaited her in the next life. What would he say? Would he forgive her?

She'd find out soon enough.

* * *

Thanos had shot some kind of freaky energy from his glove and sent Sam Wilson flying. He wasn't strong enough yet to stand; he couldn't even talk. The wind had been knocked out of him. But he could still crawl.

He crawled through the thick weeds towards the clearing where the rest of the Avengers were. He needed to get back into the fight. They might still need him. Though what the hell he could do against Thanos, he had no idea. But something. Anything.

Suddenly he stopped crawling. It was as if something was holding him down in place. He couldn't feel his legs anymore. He looked down in surprise, watching as his legs disintegrated into a dark brown powder that was scattered by the wind.

He hadn't expected to go out like this. He'd expected a heroic death, a sacrificial death. Something that people remembered. Like Riley. Riley had been blown to bits by an RPG, and everyone had seen it. They'd had a memorial, testimonials, the whole nine yards. Sam had expected that too. Not dying alone on foreign soil without a single person to watch or to even know he was gone.

He was going to die alone. Would anyone even know? Or care? Then the rest of him disintegrated and he wasn't thinking anymore. He wasn't anything.

* * *

**TITAN**

* * *

Tony lay on the ground on Titan, feeling the hard rocky ground through his bloodstained tracksuit. His midsection ached where Thanos had stabbed him with his own tech. The nanobots were holding the wound closed, but it still hurt like a mother.

Parker appeared in front of him, helping him to his feet. The heroes converged on Tony. Thanos had disappeared, bound for Earth. Now they had to regroup and recharge, come up with another plan.

Quill walked forward, supporting a wounded Mantis. Peter had used the Iron Spider suit to protect her from slamming into the ground when Thanos had thrown her, but there was still whiplash and aftereffects of the impact to deal with. She didn't look too good. Behind them came Nebula and Drax. Strange hadn't moved from his position; he was still sitting at the base of a tall rock column staring at the ground.

That was something that confused Tony. Strange had made it crystal clear that he was willing to let them all die to protect the Time Stone. Why had Strange had a change of heart? Why had he given Thanos the one thing they didn't want him to have to save Tony's life? Tony didn't even think Strange liked him. They'd met earlier that day and known each other for a total of maybe eight hours. All he'd said was some vague mumbo jumbo about the "endgame." He was about to ask Strange what he'd meant by that when suddenly Mantis said "Something's happening."

The heroes all turned to look at her. As an empath, Mantis was used to feeling emotions from other people. Fear, anger, hatred, resentment, joy—she'd felt every emotion there was to feel.

For the first time in her life, she felt something she'd never felt before.

Nothing.

Across the galaxy, across the known universe, trillions of beings emitted a scream of anguish and were then extinguished. And Mantis felt their absence, as if each of them were a light in some hundred-foot building and someone were shutting off lights one by one.

Now she could feel her own light fading.

Without warning Mantis's body melted into a brown dust that scattered in the wind. Tony stared in shock at where she'd been. _No._

* * *

Quill stared at the empty space next to him in disbelief. Mantis was gone. Literally gone. She'd disintegrated. Pieces of her ash were on his jacket, for crying out loud. What the hell had happened? He looked up at Drax and saw Drax staring at his right hand, which had begun to do the same thing Mantis had done. "No . . ." he gasped.

Drax looked up at Quill, and Quill saw the fear in his friend's eyes. "Quill?" he asked. He looked as though he were about to say more, but then his other arm disappeared in a cloud of ash as well. He threw his head back, closed his eyes, and sighed almost peacefully as his body vanished, turned into dust.

_NO. _Quill began to panic. His vision clouded, his heartbeat pounded in his ears. His friends were dropping like flies. He couldn't do anything to stop them from going. He'd failed.

Thor had warned them about this. Thanos was going to wipe out half of all life in the universe. Half—chosen at random. Drax and Mantis had been unlucky. And it was all his fault. They'd had Thanos—they'd been able to stop him. Why had he had to lose control? Why had he had to sabotage them by breaking Mantis's grip on Thanos? They'd been so _close_—

His mind went back to the night he'd lost his mother. The night brain cancer had taken her life. He'd stood in the hospital waiting room, a boy in a goofy bowl cut wearing a flannel two sizes too big for him. Watching the adults hover around his dead mother, one of the only people who had ever really cared for him. She'd died in front of him. He hadn't been able to stop her from dying. All he'd been able to do was watch. Helpless.

He'd ran. That was the only thing he'd known to do. He'd ran and ran until his legs had given out, until he'd felt as much pain on the outside as he had on the inside. Now it was all happening all over again. His friends were dying in front of him and he couldn't do a thing. The sound of his mother's heart monitor flatlining filled his ears as his breath intensified.

Tony stepped towards him, extending his hand. He recognized the look on Quill's face. The man was having a panic attack. "Steady, Quill," he said.

"Oh, man . . ." Quill said as his body vanished in an explosion of windswept dust. He wouldn't be able to run this time.

* * *

Tony stared at the ground, his body going numb. _Thanos won. Thanos won. _That was all that was running through his mind. He'd failed again. They'd all failed.

Strange saw Tony hang his head in utter defeat. He knew exactly how the man felt. He'd felt the same way after the car accident had taken the use of his hands. He'd tried everything, selling all he had to fund experimental cures, even taking a pilgrimage to Kamar-Taj to find the magic healer. Nothing had worked. He remembered feeling the hopelessness and despair of never being able to be whole again.

His mind went back to the first time he'd used the Time Stone. He'd been a magician-in-training back then, being taught by Wong and Mordo. He'd gone to the library to read the Book of Cagliostro and ended up using the Eye of Agamotto on an apple, regrowing it and rotting it. He'd also recreated the missing page on the book until Wong and Mordo had come in, warning him not to bend natural laws so recklessly.

Reckless.

That was the only way he'd been able to describe his career before and after becoming the Sorcerer Supreme. He'd only ever taken patients as a surgeon that would help fuel his own career. He'd wanted to be able to control death, and to control time. How ironic that such a man would be given control of time itself. And he'd thrown it away, to save Tony's life.

But who was he kidding? He was no hero. He was an egotistical douchebag, even to this day. He hated himself for it. Sometimes his old self had a habit of poking through, of coming back and showing itself when Strange least expected. It was as though even though he was in control of time itself, his past would never truly go away.

"Tony," he said, and Stark turned to face him. Strange racked his brain, looking for encouraging words to say. But what could he say? He'd visited 14,000,605 timelines looking for any answers to beating Thanos, and this was the only one they'd come up with. The only one where they came out on top. Even though it didn't look like it now, the answer lay at the end of all this. Strange could feel himself slipping away. He didn't want to go, not yet, but it was like the Ancient One had told him. _We don't get to choose our time. _

The last thing he told Tony was: "There was no other way."

* * *

"Mr. Stark?"

The cry had come from Peter. Tony turned from where Strange had been before disintegrating to see poor Peter staring at the ground, eyes glassy. He gasped, and said softly, "I don't feel so good." He looked at his hands, then looked up at Tony, his eyes full of fear.

_No. NO. _"You're all right," Tony said, unthinkingly. _You're all right. Damn it, Parker, you're fine. You have to be. Not you, too. _

"I don't—I don't know what's happening," Peter said, stumbling towards Tony. His voice cracked, the sobs of panic barely held back. "I don't know—" He fell into Tony's arms, wrapping his hands around the man and holding with a vice like grip. "Save me, save me!" he begged.

Tony felt tears dampening his shoulder as Peter grabbed him around the back, pulling him close and burying his face in Tony's shoulder. "I don't want to go," he sobbed, as flakes of ash began floating off of his hair and forearms. "I don't want to go, Stark. Please. Please, I don't wanna go. I don't wanna go!"

Not Peter. Please, God, not Peter. Tony remembered the first time he'd ever met Peter, in the living room of the kid's apartment in Queens. Tony had been—and still was—Peter's biggest idol. His hero. All he'd ever wanted to do was make Tony proud. To be like Iron Man.

It was his fault the kid was even here. He'd been the one who recruited Peter, who'd found him from the YouTube videos. He'd turned Peter into his own personal sidekick. Like Batman and Robin. He'd put the kid in harm's way time after time, and the kid had gone out of his way to save the world and prove himself to Stark. That was the only reason he was even here now, on Titan.

He'd gotten Peter starstruck by the superhero lifestyle. But this was the side no one ever saw. The hard side. The gut-wrenching side. He laid Peter down on his back on the ground. The boy stared up at the dark cloudy sky, then turned to look at Tony. Tony couldn't see clearly; the tears in his eyes were blurring everything. "I'm sorry . . ." Peter gasped, turning his head away from Stark as he melted into ash.

_NO. _Tony slapped his palm down onto Peter's chest, trying to hold him there, trying to stop him from dying. But Peter was already gone, and his hand instead struck the stone slab where he'd been lying. The pain of the slap jolted through his arm, and he pulled his hand away, staring at it. Blood had been drawn. His hand was stinging with numbness as he closed his fist against the pain, sitting up.

His vision was coming back to him. The vision that haunted him in his sleep. The vision he'd been given in Strucker's castle before Ultron. The Avengers were all lying dead, defeated by Thanos. The Chitauri army was victoriously flying towards Earth through a portal in space. He saw his teammates, lying on the ground, dead. Banner. Romanoff. Thor. Clint. And Steve, with his shield shattered in pieces. Rogers grabbed his hand, looking him in the eye. "_You . . . could have . . . saved . . . us_," he gasped. _Why . . . didn't . . . you do . . . more?_ And then he was gone, and Stark was all alone.

Lightning crackled in the sky. Behind him, the blue-skinned cyborg girl monotonely said, "He did it."

_He did it. _

_He did it. _

_Thanos did it. _

_Everything is your fault. _

Tony fought back a sob as waves of depression and anguish crashed over him. That vision wasn't a nightmare. It was his legacy. The end of the path that _he_, Tony Stark, had set them all on.

Ultron had been his fault. World peace? Really? He'd been an _idiot _to think that he could achieve that. Every time he'd faced a problem, what had he done? Thrown some money and some tech at it. Trying to solve it. Except he'd made the problem worse. Every. Single. Time.

The Avengers splitting had been his fault. He'd been trying to unite them. They needed to be put in check, he'd told himself. He hadn't seen the manipulation. Zemo's mind games. And it had ruined the Avengers. Divided them forever. Because of that, they'd been weak when Thanos finally did come. Divided. And that was why they'd lost.

Extremis had been his fault. Ultron had been his fault. The Ten Rings had been his fault. It was _all _his fault. Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. The man who caused all the problems.

And the worst part was that he couldn't even protect the people who he put in harm's way with his shenanigans. He hadn't been able to save Ho Yinseng, the man who had helped him build the first Iron Man suit. He hadn't been able to save Miriam Sharpe's son, Charlie Spencer, who had died in Sokovia as a result of the Ultron fight. _His _fight. He hadn't been able to save Rhodey from losing his legs in the airport battle. He hadn't been able to save Pepper from getting the Extremis virus. He hadn't been able to save Peter.

Tony Stark sat on the ground on Titan, holding his hand to his mouth, rocking back and forth and crying softly. His mind went back to a conversation he'd had with Fury, long ago. Telling him about his vision. _Watching my friends die, _he said_, you'd think that'd be as bad as it gets. And that's not the worst part. _

_The worst part was that you didn't_, Fury had said.

And he had been absolutely right. He'd been the survivor. The guilty one had lived, and the innocent had died _for_ him. That wasn't fair.

He heard Rogers' voice, from their confrontation on the Helicarrier before the attack on New York. _Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off and what are you? _

What was Tony Stark?

The man who had killed the Avengers. The man who had sabotaged the only people who could have stopped something like this. All of this was on him.

And he didn't know if he could live with it.


End file.
